


The Path of Hate

by bladespark



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Father/Son Incest, Forced Incest, Forced Orgasm, Incest, M/M, Rape, Restraints, Torture, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 17:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18266141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bladespark/pseuds/bladespark
Summary: Luke's attempt to escape Vader at Bespin failed, and now he is a prisoner, wholly at Emperor Palpatine's mercy.  Can a younger Luke, less confident in himself, resist turning to darkness in the face of the horrors he is about to suffer at his own father's hands?





	The Path of Hate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DevSibwarra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DevSibwarra/gifts).



> This is, I *think*, the first fully non-con explicit story I've published anywhere. I've written lots of variously rapey material, but mostly as private spank stories, and what I've shared so far has been either difficult to categorize, or not actually intended as smut and/or largely off screen. I am definitely one of those depraved sorts who enjoys rape as a strictly fictional fantasy, though, so I thought I'd finally go ahead and put some of that out there. Hopefully it suits the taste of a few folks. If it's not to your taste, the tags are right there, this warning is right here, please just move on. Thanks!

"There are many paths to the dark side."

Luke lay chained, naked on the table, in the sterile, brightly-lit cell, both feet manacled and spread, one arm chained conventionally, the other, bandaged where he no longer had a hand, chained at the elbow instead. 

The light was part of the torture; everything about the Imperial prison carefully, coldly calculated. Darkness would allow rest. The brilliant light kept one awake. Luke had hardly slept since being taken prisoner three days ago. Yet he felt that even if he'd had restful dark to enfold him, he might still have found no rest in it. Fear and failure churned through him. Yoda had been right. By choosing to rescue his friends on Bespin he had chosen wrongly, given in to emotion and impulse, and doomed himself, perhaps doomed them all.

He had sought the calm he'd found briefly at Yoda's side, the power and certainty of the force, but he found only further chaos, only more confusion. He relived two paired moments a thousand times, each spiraling around the other in his mind without end. The first, the moment in the cave on Dagobah, when he'd slain Vader and seen his own face. The second, when he'd fully understood the shape of his deepest fear, when Vader had told him who he really was. Even as he'd screamed denial, he'd known the truth of it the instant he heard it.

The force ran in his blood, but it was not a noble inheritance, it was a tainted legacy, stained by his father's black crimes.

Would his own soul be as dark someday? Surely not. Surely he could hold true, refuse the dark side, and avoid his father's fate, even if it meant death. He'd told himself that a thousand times as he tossed restlessly on the metal bunk, but he'd never quite managed to make his mental voice completely certain. 

Now Luke looked up at Vader, standing at his head, silent save for the perpetual hiss of his respirator, while Emperor Palpatine sat on a portable throne in the corner of the cell and held forth, his voice gloating, certain, smug even. "There are many paths to the dark side. The Jedi looked down at the Sith, pretending that they were the one perfect good in the galaxy, but they didn't see their own weakness, their own rot. They preached one way, a single balance-beam across the abyss. To make one step wrong is to fall forever. But who can walk without ever misstepping? Their own perfection was their destruction, and they have all long since fallen. You are falling now, young Skywalker. You have taken a step off the Jedi path, and all other paths lead to the dark side, and to your place at my side."

"I'll never turn," spat Luke, substituting defiance for certainty.

Palpatine chuckled and shook his head. "You pretend a confidence you do not have, young Skywalker. I can sense your mind, you know. You are full of delightful fear and doubt, though you try to cling to your Jedi ways. There is a path to the darkness for you too, though. For those who stubbornly refuse to admit that the dark side is stronger, and that power is its own reward, the surest path is the breaking of mind, body, and spirit." Palpatine leaned back in his throne, steepling his hands together. "Alas, I lack the time to do as I did with your father, and let life and your own naive foolishness do the breaking for me. Instead I must break you swiftly. Or rather, you must be broken swiftly. But it is not I who will do the breaking, not truly." Palpatine smiled at Vader, his expression as smug as his voice, and Luke could sense the sadistic glee that filled him.

"You can torture me all you like, there's nothing that will make me turn," said Luke, clinging to his defiance as best he could. A worm of doubt gnawed in Luke's guts, though, and it was joined by a larger worm of fear. What tortures would Vader inflict on him at the Emperor's command?

The emperor laughed. "Torture? Such a _simplistic_ word. You will certainly feel pain, so I suppose you can call it torture if you wish. But pleasure is closely linked to pain, my young apprentice. That is a lesson your father knows well. Don't you, Lord Vader?"

"Yes, my Master," said Vader, his deep, distorted voice as calm as ever. Luke could sense him, though, the force conveying the feel of his mind, and Luke knew that Vader's heart was a roil of intense emotion. It had been so each time Luke had come near him. That was the legacy of the dark side, to feel rather than to think, to indulge the animal at the expense of the rational.

Just now Vader felt resignation, distaste, a kind of perverse eagerness, more than a little sexual arousal, and above all a strong feeling of hate. Luke might have expected the rest, though given what Palpatine had said about pleasure, the sexual nature of Vader's feelings added to the worm of fear that wriggled in his gut. He was virginal as yet, but not so sheltered that he couldn't guess at least some of what might be done to him, appalling as that thought was. But the hate... The hate puzzled Luke, for it wasn't directed as Luke might have expected. It wasn't directed at the Emperor and it wasn't directed at Luke either. It was turned inward, a dark ouroboros that ate its own tail, for what Darth Vader seemed to hate most of all was himself.

Luke was left with no further time to contemplate what that might mean, though, for Palpatine lifted one hand and said, "Let us begin by making you familiar with _pain_." Lightning crackled from his fingers, and in the cell's small space he didn't have to rise from his throne for it to arc and crackle across Luke's skin.

Pain was indeed the word, for the lightning hurt all out of proportion, a searing fire that not only burned over his naked body, but seemed to burrow into it, sending pain shooting down to his very bones. He screamed and arched against the table, pulling uselessly at the restraints that held him spread-eagled on it, unable to keep from that futile struggle.

The pain was brief, the lightning a swift strike that retreated to leave him panting on the table. Vader's mask regarded him coldly, its blank eyes impassive. Behind it Luke could feel the continuing chaos that filled his father. The mask was as calm as a Jedi's ideal, but it only hid, it didn't change the truth. Luke felt like his own calm was nearly that superficial, nearly that fragile. How could he not be caught up in emotion now? How could he let fear pass through him as Yoda had tried to teach him?

Lightning struck again, the tendrils of it wrapping Luke's body, boring into his flesh, making him scream again, and now it didn't retreat, it went on and on and on, as he screamed and fought and struggled as Vader watched, seemingly impassively.

Finally it left again and Luke lay panting again. He felt that he should be marked by it, blackened and charred, yet he could see that he was still whole, could still see his naked, vulnerable skin as yet untouched.

Another horrific bolt slammed into Luke, but this one was different. After the first overwhelming shock of it, it turned almost soft, a crackling energy over his skin, a still-painful pulse in his bones, but not so completely horrific. It hurt, but it was a hurt that left room for other sensations. For a moment the only other thing in Luke's mind was confusion. Then Palpatine said, "Now, Lord Vader, it is time to truly begin your son's education."

"Yes, my Master." Vader reached out with one gloved hand, and Luke found himself tensing. He was no longer screaming, the pain had ebbed enough for him to control himself, though it still shuddered through him, Palpatine's hand still extended, his lightning crawling over Luke with an almost delicate finesse.

Vader didn't move to add to Luke's pain, though. His hand simply touched, fingers trailing over Luke's pale skin, and to Luke's slowly-growing horror, he sensed the lust from Vader building. Luke closed his eyes, as if blocking out the sight of his father—his father!—would stop what Vader was doing, but that only made the touch, the feel of gloved hands exploring him, more immediate. Luke's body shuddered, his breath, already ragged, coming in harsh, panting gasps. He began to struggle again, as hopelessly as ever, but he couldn't simply lie there and endure that vile touch, that growing lust, without doing something, putting up some resistance, however token, however useless.

The horrible caress grew ever more intimate, gloved fingers sliding over Luke's stomach along the curve of his hip, over the top of his thigh and along the sensitive skin inside it, all while the pain of the Emperor's force lightning still echoed through him, the two things both awful, both unwanted. Luke would rather have endured the pain, though, even were it a hundred times stronger, for Vader's hand soon found its way to Luke's flaccid cock, and caressed along the length of it with sensual slowness.

Luke shuddered, a whimper of utter horror escaping him. He did not want this. He did not want this!

"How exquisite," whispered Palpatine. The lightning ebbed away entirely, but Luke's trembling didn't cease, for Vader continued to slowly stroke his cock, which was beginning to harden, despite Luke's attempt to reject the physical pleasure of his father's touch. "The things you feel are strong indeed. Soon you will find the path of hate, my young apprentice. Soon."

Luke tried to gather himself together, to spit further defiance, but Vader stroked his cock again and Luke's attempts at coherence shattered, all that came from between his lips was another broken whimper. Vader's awful caress was inescapable, and Luke could feel the Emperor crawling in the back of his mind, a twisted force touch that only made his sense of violation worse.

"Now, Lord Vader, give in to your desires. I sense them. Take what you want, as you always have, and show your son the true power of the dark side."

Vader was silent save for the sound of his respirator for a moment, and even through his own horror and denial, Luke could sense the conflict that filled him. Then suddenly the hand touching him was gone, and with a gesture Vader's force power released Luke's chains from where they were fastened to the corners of the table. In an instant Luke had been flipped over, Vader's power manhandling him easily. With a shock of realization Luke gathered himself to resist, but before he could, another touch of the force, the immaterial power now stroking where Vader's hand had been a moment before, scattered his will again. His cock was hard now, his body betraying his will, and a moment later his restraints were fastened again, holding him now face down on the table's hard, cold metal surface.

With a faint hiss of hydraulics the table lowered itself, and next thing Luke knew Vader had climbed onto it, onto him.

That immaterial touch was still on his cock, stroking slowly, steadily, but now Vader's physical hands went to his own crotch, unfastening the armor there, revealing a thick, erect member that sprang eagerly free from its prison of fabric and alloy. It was terrifyingly huge, already slick with sweat and pre, and as Vader positioned himself above Luke, Luke's horror and denial were greater than he could have thought possible before this moment.

He fought almost frantically, pulling at the restraints that held him until the skin around them was raw and bloody, but it did him no good. He tried to summon his own force powers, but they wouldn't come into focus. The chaos in his thoughts, the pleasure and terror both that filled his body, the Emperor's oppressive power crawling through his mind, all combined to make the necessary sense of focus impossible to achieve.

A traitor thought told Luke that the dark side would answer to his hand in moments like this. He clenched his teeth and dismissed that thought, but he could not dismiss what was about to happen to him as Vader curled his gloved hand around his own cock and pressed the head of it to Luke's backside. He could feel its slick heat against him, and he shuddered profoundly. There was no escaping it, no escaping the horror and violation that was about to be visited upon him.

"Please father, don't do this," he begged, in final desperation. "I know you don't want to."

Vader said nothing, though he paused for a moment. Palpatine laughed. "But he does, my young apprentice. Don't lie to yourself, you can _feel_ how he wants you."

Vader shuddered, Luke could feel the quiver that went through his body, sense his reluctance and inner conflict, but he began to sink down all the same, his cock spreading Luke open, invading Luke's body, and Luke knew that Palpatine was right. The rock hardness of Vader's thick cock was a testament to his perverse desire that Luke would have been well aware of even without his force sensitivity. That, though, told him in even greater detail exactly how much Vader wanted him. He was full of twisted regret and reluctance, but he wanted Luke nevertheless, and the pace of the breaths hissing through his respirator increased as he slowly sank to the hilt within his son.

Luke felt Vader's body pressing down on his, all cold, angular hardness. He was still fully encased in his clothing, half life support and half armor, an inhuman coldness that contrasted with the too-human heat of his cock within Luke. That was a horror, and yet also, as Vader braced himself over Luke and began to slowly move, an undeniable pleasure. It was twisted with pain, as the touch while wracked with lightning had been, for Vader's cock was massive and Luke was stretched almost beyond bearing by it. Yet still the feel of it moving within him stirred pleasure, and Luke whimpered again in horrified negation. Somehow the fact that it felt good was the worst part.

Another whimper escaped him as the force touch returned, warm power wrapping itself around Luke's cock and stroking steadily, in time with the slow pace of Vader's thrusts.

That pace swiftly increased, and before long Vader was taking Luke hard and fast, thrusting in with brutal power, wringing helpless cries of pain from his son that were horribly mingled with pleasure, his immaterial hand still stroking Luke's cock. It squeezed with increasing insistence even as Vader thrust ever faster, ever harder, the sound of his breathing a rapid, harsh wheezing in Luke's ear as his respirator struggled to keep up with his exertions.

Then there was a low grunt, and a hiss of pure satisfaction from the Emperor where he still sat, watching, and Luke felt Vader's pleasure pushing into his mind, the feeling strong, overwhelming, too much when combined with the physical sensations that raced through him as Vader began to come deep within him. In that moment Luke came too, with a soft, broken cry of denial and a whimpered, "No." His body shuddered, his cum spurting onto the table beneath him, while Vader's was a hot gush within him, filling him with both pleasure and horror.

The crashing wave of it slowly ebbed as the last drops dribbled from Luke, and Vader immediately climbed off of him, his mind a haze of shame that was perfectly in harmony with the shame that filled Luke. He'd just lost his virginity to his own father, and he hadn't been able to keep from enjoying it.

"Yes, exquisite," murmured Palpatine. "Such pleasure you've felt. You truly are your father's son."

Luke shuddered, a sob rising in his throat. "No," he said again, but that was only repeating the lie of denial he'd spoken even as pleasure had overcome him. The emperor was right, he was Vader's son, and he'd felt just the same things his father had during the forbidden act that had been performed on him.

A stab of emotion, dark and strong, went through Luke, and he turned his face to the table and began to sob, while the emperor began to laugh, for what Luke felt was hate, true hate, undeniable and impossible to resist, and aimed not at Palpatine, nor even at Vader, but at Luke himself, at what he'd felt, at what he'd become.

"Yes, my young apprentice," said the emperor's gloating voice, and he laughed again. "You have turned to the dark side already, for you have found the path of hate."

**Author's Note:**

> I blame DevSibwarra. :D 
> 
> P.S. If you'd like to see me talk about writing, my works in progress, other creative endeavors, and my life in general, check out [my Dreamwidth blog](https://bladespark.dreamwidth.org/).)


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